


I'll Carry You

by MiniatureGlitterSoul



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Brotherly Fluff, Gen, Post-Weirdmageddon, Sea Grunks, Sea Stans, kind of, they had to make a brief stop, they're not actually at sea right now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:06:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6651601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniatureGlitterSoul/pseuds/MiniatureGlitterSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan has to carry an injured Ford to the nearest hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Even Though You're Heavier than a Sack of Bricks

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by a tumblr post by saisailove.

“Sheesh, Sixer, what have you been eating? Rocks?” Stan grunted as he took another step forward.

“No, but your cooking sure tastes like it,” Ford muttered.

“Hey, I can still drop you.”

He and Ford had been caught in a little bit of a scuffle with some sea creature Stan couldn’t name, and Ford had taken a heavy blow to the leg. He had told Stan that nothing was broken, but when he tried to stand he’d nearly fallen off the boat. So, Stan had steered them towards land and was now forced to carry his brother piggy-back style until they found a hospital. A local they had met along the way had pointed them in the right direction and had even drawn them a little map, which Ford was now holding.

“Go ahead, drop me,” Ford said. “I  _can_  walk, Stanley.”

“You’re an eighty-year-old man with fragile bones-–you probably broke a hip or somethin’.”

“I am  _not_  eighty years old! And my bones are very strong!”

“Probably because you lined them all with  _lead_ , which explains why you’re so  _heavy!_ ”

“Lead is actually a very soft material, Stanley-–it would be a poor choice for lining bones if you wanted to increase their structural integrity.”

“Fine,  _iron_  then!” Stan cried, loud enough that someone in a nearby building screamed something at them in Norwegian.

“Calm down, Stan, you’re disturbing the locals,” Ford said, his voice much lower now.

“I’ll calm down if you shut up,” Stan muttered.

“I’ll shut up if you stop mocking me.”

“I’m your brother! I’m supposed to mock you!”

“I really don’t think there are rules for this sort of thing.”

“There are–-trust me, I checked. And they state that all brothers must mock the weight of any sibling they have to carry for an extended period of time.”

“I said, you don’t have to-–”

“I know I don’t  _have to_ , all right? I know that you could probably limp along to the nearest hospital–-but I also know that wouldn’t be the best thing for your stupid leg, so I’m not gonna let your stupid  _mouth_  to convince me to put you down.”

“Well, I don’t want my  _massive weight_  to hurt your stupid back.”

“Hey, you’re not the first body I’ve carried around, and you probably won’t be the last.”

“What?”

“Uh–-nothing. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Stanley-–”

“Ugh! I think every time you open your mouth you get heavier! How is that possible?”

“Stanley!”

“What’s that? You’d like to hear some really great jokes about how much weight you’ve gained while we’ve been sailing the seven seas? Why, of course! How many Ford’s does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”

“Stanley, I want to know-–”

“Three! One to make a new lightbulb, one to put it in, and another to make galaxy sandwiches with infinite calories!”

“Stanley Cynthia Pines!”

Stan stopped in his tracks. He stood in silence for a moment.

“Whoa,” he breathed. “It was like Ma comin’ back from the grave.”

“Yes…apologies for that…” Ford said mumbled.

Stan took a deep breath before he began to walk again. The cold air stung his lungs.

“I am sorry for that, Stanley-–”

“Forget about it,” Stan shrugged, boosting Ford up a little higher.

“I know she meant a lot to you.”

“She meant a lot to both of us.”

“Yes…well…”

They walked in silence for a few moments. Mist fell down around them, adding to the cold and putting a gentle haze around bright apartment windows. The world was quiet, save for Stan’s footsteps. He smiled.

“A couple of twins walk into a bar,” he said, his voice soft. “The first one says, ‘I’ll take an H2O please,’ and the other one says, ‘What the heck are you doin’ orderin’ water at a bar? You’re such a nerd!’”

Ford laughed, his voice thick. He sniffed and Stan’s smile grew.

“Ya know,” Stan began again. “My ex-wife still misses me…”

“But her aim is getting better!” they both cried at once, then broke out into hysterical laughter.

Someone else yelled at them in Norwegian.

“Yeah, and same to you!” Stan shouted back, still laughing a little.

“Why is it still so funny?” Ford asked through his giggles.

“Because marriage is terrible!”

“You were only married for, what, six hours?”

“Worst six hours of my life… Ugh,” Stan shuddered a little, and Ford giggled again. “You giggle like a school girl, ya know.”

“What? I do not!”

“But you weigh as much as a whale. Good grief, man, are we almost there?”

“Should be just around this corner.”

“Thank goodness!”

“Will you at least let me walk inside–-to save a  _fraction_  of my dignity?”

“Fine–-but you always had too big a head to begin with. Maybe  _that’s_  why you’re so heavy!”

Ford shook his head as Stan gently let him down. Then, looping his arm over Stan’s shoulder, Ford smiled.

“Thanks, Stanley.”

“Anytime, Poindexter. Anytime.”


	2. Even Though You Are...Fairly Heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford has to carry an injured Stan to the nearest hospital.

“Urgh--” Ford grunted, shrugging his shoulders and boosting Stan a little higher.

“Ouch!” Stan cried. “Careful with the leg! If you’re gonna squeeze so hard you might as well let me walk...”

The two of them had been off the Norwegian coast when they’d been attacked by a Draugen--a nice change from the typical Kraken, but new creatures always meant new dangers, and this one had been no different. Ford was familiar with the mythology and knew what to expect--down to the screech and the seaweed draped over the massive, ghostly form--but Stan had been caught off-guard. The scream had done a number on his hearing aid, so he hadn’t heard Ford yelling at him to stay back. In typical fashion, Stan had charged forward fist-first (“in a blind rage,” he had told Ford afterwards) and gotten knocked back--hard. Ford had managed to steer the boat to safety, and though Stan insisted he was fine, he almost fell off the boat when he attempted to stand up. So, Ford sailed towards the nearest shore and docked the boat, and was now carrying Stan to the nearest hospital. A local had drawn a rough map for them, and Stan was employing his best navigational skills to get them there.

“My apologies, Stanley,” Ford muttered. “You were just leaning a little heavily to the right.”

“What, are you saying my right side is heavier than my left side?”

“No--I don’t believe so, anyway--we’d have to take some measurements to know for sure--”

“Ugh, it’s bad enough that you won’t let me walk, do you have to keep spoutin’ out nerd nonsense?”

“Just trying to pass the time...”

“Well stop, it’s annoying.”

“Stanley, I understand that pain can make one irritable, but I think you may be taking it a bit far--”

“Will you can it already, Poindexter? I’m cranky, I’m cold, my leg hurts, and you won’t even let me walk by myself! I feel like some kinda baby up here--so don’t lecture me on being irritable or lashing out or whatever--or I might just lash out all over your stupid fluffy hair!”

“I thought we agreed--no more teasing about my hair!”

“I wasn’t teasin’, I was statin’ a fact.”

“Which is that my hair is disproportionately fluffy--which is a backhanded sort of jab!”

“You’re even nerdy about insults!”

“Well, I just want to clarify that this is a jab. Hang on--” Ford stopped walking for a moment, boosting Stan up again.

“Easy, Sixer!” Stan said--Ford could practically hear him grimace.

“Again, I apologize--you just slid a bit,” Ford said as he began to walk again.

“Well, if my weight is too much for ya, feel free to let me down!”

“Trust me, Stanley, you’re not the heaviest thing I’ve ever carried.”

“What?”

“I mean--well--I’ve had to hoist some heavy machinery before--”

“Okay...”

“And there was that encounter with a rather large alien species--most relatable to a pig, but much bigger--”

“Sixer--”

“But that goes back to my smuggling days, and I’d rather not discuss those--although the Drimidian princess turned out to be quite interesting--”

“Ford--”

“Turns out  _she_  was the one who hired us to smuggle the alien-pigs out of her country!”

“Stanford!”

“She said it was because they were menacing the countryside, but I still don’t believe that--”

“Stanford Filbrick Pines!”

Ford stopped. A chill ran down his spine.

“Oh,” Stan’s voice came out in a little moan--reminiscent of their childhood. “I sounded...”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. They both knew exactly who he sounded like. Stan’s fingers wrapped a little tighter around Ford’s coat.

“No, you didn’t,” Ford said. He began to walk again. A cool mist had descended upon the tiny Norwegian town, not unlike a night at sea, and apartment windows blazed through the darkness with a hazy glow.

“I’m sorry, Sixer--”

“Don’t apologize, Stanley--there’s no reason you should apologize.”

“But it was--”

“A moment of reasonable anger brought on by my incessant blathering,” Ford cut in. 

Stan let out a low chuckle.

“It was pretty incessant...” he mumbled, a little grin in his voice.

“Someday, when you’re in the mood, remind me to tell you about the Drimidian princess,” Ford said, smiling. “I do think you’d like that story.”

“Was she hot?” Stan asked.

“Well, she had four eyes--literally--and two antenna that stuck up out of her hair--which was purple, by the way--”

“Okay, but was she hot?”

“Well, attractiveness is based largely on societal norms and perceptions developed in early childhood--”

“Just say yes.”

“Fine, she was hot.”

“Yes! I knew it!”

Ford laughed and shook his head. 

“You’re ridiculous, Stanley,” he said.

“Yeah, well, you’re a fluffy nerd, so...” Stan said. He gave Ford’s hair an aggressive pet, and Ford could feel it sticking up in a hundred different directions.

“Stanley...” he whined, but his frown wouldn’t stick and a little laugh escaped his lips instead.

“Hey, I think it looks better this way! We should take a picture and send it to Mabel!”

“I draw the line at photographic evidence!”

“Too late!” 

Sure enough, Ford heard the tell-tale click of the camera on Stan’s phone. He sighed.

“Are we almost there?” he asked, turning to glance at Stan over his shoulder.

“Hang on... _send_...she’s gonna love that...” Stan chuckled to himself. “Now, lemme check the map...uh...” he squinted at the street signs.

Ford made a mental note to check his brother’s eyesight later, as new glasses were apparently long overdue.

“Sheesh, how does anybody fit these street names on an envelope?”

“Focus, Stanley.”

“Right--uh--looks like we turn at that next right and then the hospital is on the left.”

“Excellent!”

“Hey, Ford?”

“Yes, Stanley?”

“Could you let me walk inside at least? You know, so all the potentially attractive nurses don’t see me gettin’ carried in by my big brother?”

“They might think it’s cute--”

“They’d think  _you’re_  cute.  _I_  need to play the injured hero.”

Ford chuckled.

“All right, Stanley. Hang on--” he stopped, letting Stan down. 

Stan sucked in a breath as he put his weight on his injured leg. He threw an arm around Ford’s shoulders.

“Thanks, Poindexter,” he said, taking a slow step forward.

“Anytime, Stanley. Anytime.”


End file.
